Stuck in the Elevator
by MissDillyDilly
Summary: Spoiler Alert for 6.1 and 6.2! The fallout from Stella’s actions continues, and she realises that Mac is slipping away from her. K for mild swearing once.


**Stuck in the Elevator**

**Summary**: **Spoiler Alert for 6.1 and 6.2! **The fallout from Stella's actions continues, and she realises that Mac is slipping away from her.

**Disclaimers**: I have made no money from writing this story. I do not own anything connected with any of the CSI franchises, which I assume belong to CBS and its cohorts. I would quite like to borrow Gary Sinise, however… just for a day?

**A/N**: A one-shot in response to 6.2. Thanks to talkstoangels77 for spotting the logistical error (now corrected)!

* * *

Life is full of coincidences: Stella knew that everything that happens is a coincidence, but that most aren't important. Today's, however, was; especially to her. Everyone was concerned, and Adam – apparently feeling strangely responsible for the computer glitch that had caused the malfunction – was almost frantic, but she was the victim, if 'victim' was the right word: she was the one stuck in the elevator.

* * *

It took the whole morning to rescue her, by which time she was cold, dehydrated and groggy: the elevator was without independent supplies of heat or air, and she had been forced to curl up in a corner trying not to breathe too deeply, all the while knowing that she was being anxiously watched through the security cameras. Mac's voice had filled up the small room from time to time, his deep, calm tones counterpointing Adam's high-pitched feverish ones: once, she heard him sharply tell the lab tech to get a grip and get on with the job. After that, neither of them said much, but the work did seem to progress faster.

_No, not between floors… You're sure the cables are secure? What about going in through the ceiling? How much air is in there? For God's sake, Adam, get on with it!_

It was odd, listening as one man she had slept with – and one man she hadn't – picked their way through the complexity of the computer program until they found the problem: a minor hiccup that had left her hanging, locked in limbo, between the thirty-third and thirty-fifth floors. So much for elevators that stopped at every other floor, she thought. But she had heard about Mac's recent brush with death, and still turned sick at the thought that, if he had jumped ten seconds later, he would literally have been cut in half as the damaged hospital elevator plummeted twenty floors to the ground. No wonder he was edgy…

Finally, the repaired lab elevator lurched into life and ground its way slowly upwards: as the doors clanked open and sweet, warm air rushed in, relieved faces filled the space before her. Her eyes instinctively sought Mac's: and there he was, panting slightly as if he'd just run from the control room. Behind him, hiding in his shadow, stood Adam. Oh shit, she thought: this could be awkward.

But it wasn't: as she stepped shakily out and took a proffered bottle of water with wordless gratitude, Mac seemed to melt away into the crowd. She saw Adam step forward a little faster than was natural, and realised, horribly, that Mac must have pushed him, very gently, into her path.

Smiling wanly, she let the young man lead her to a chair. She didn't want to be with him, she thought churlishly: she wanted to be with Mac! Who was nowhere to be seen. She sighed: she was going to have to talk to him – to mend the connections between them, so strong yet so fragile, and so very precious – before he distanced himself from her completely.

* * *

"Mac – can I have a word?" She hesitated at the door to his office, aware of the difficulty of what she had to say. But better to clear the air now, once for all, than tiptoe around each other as they'd been doing for the past week.

"Sure." Mac's reply was easy, but she heard the tension in his voice, and wondered what he expected.

She walked into his space – very much his space, however often he shared it with others – and sat on the sofa: he came and sat next to her, for which she was grateful. But the awkward silence that sat grossly between them made her feel wretched: one stupid night, and everything was ruined. And yet…

"I – I won't deny it was foolish," she said suddenly.

"What – getting stuck in the elevator?"

"No! Spending the night with… It's not going to happen again."

"Ah." Mac paused, and his voice became tighter. "Stella, it's none of my business who you spend time with out of the lab. All I ask is that you're here for work afterwards."

She looked at his serious face: was he really trying to help her, or was that a veiled stab at the damage she had done to their relationship? She truly didn't know. She wanted it to be his business – she wanted him to make it his business. Did he think this wedge between them was a good thing? "Is that all you ask?" she whispered.

"I can't ask for more."

She felt tears start, and cursed the human weakness that caused them. He could ask her for anything, and she would move heaven and earth to get it – but she would never say so. "I'd just lost a lifelong friend. Jess was dead. Danny – perhaps never walking again. I needed some human comfort, Mac! Just someone to hold me…"

He was silent, as if searching for words. "I would have held you." He spoke so softly that she hardly heard him. Then he looked at her, and she saw the depth of emotion behind his eyes. "I would have held you, Stella."

She shook her head, surprised at her self-control. "It would have meant too much." Mac blinked in surprise. "Adam – " she had to say his name " – was fluff. Once, over and done with. You… It would have been too important. It would have had – implications."

"I'm sure we could have coped."

"I'm not sure _I_ could have coped."

He nodded slowly. Then he reached out and took her hand. His flesh was warm and firm and – the sensation was gone almost before she had realised it was there. "I think you should go home now, Stella – get some rest."

"What? I'm fine, Mac!"

"You've just spent three hours in a freezing elevator with precious little oxygen. You've been through an emotional trauma – some of it of my making. Go and do nothing for the rest of the day, come back tomorrow and this is all history. OK?"

"I – no, please, Mac." She paused. "I was scared I'd spoilt – I wanted you to know. I thought I might have lost you."

He smiled the old, familiar smile that made her stomach tingle and told her that, whatever happened, all was right with the world. Then, without warning, he put his arms around her and held her close. "Never," he whispered.

For a moment she settled against him, happy and safe: childish emotions that she had learned to treasure over the past few months. "Thanks."

"Now," he continued, as they moved apart, "go home." He lowered his voice. "I'll call you, OK?"

* * *

She left his office and walked down the hallway. As she reached the corner and paused – stairs or elevator, that was the question – she involuntarily turned to see Mac watching her. She looked at him anxiously and he smiled, raising his hand to the side of his face in a thumb-and-pinkie gesture.

She felt a wash of relief: he really had forgiven her. Perhaps – ironically – this was the thing that would finally break down his defences and let her in. Perhaps…

She nodded to him and headed to the elevator: no way was she walking thirty-five floors. She would be fine: coincidences happened, but not that often. As the machinery whirred smoothly into faultless motion, she was already looking forward to her phone call.

_The End_


End file.
